


Final Fantasy

by mustangcandi



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:26:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustangcandi/pseuds/mustangcandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four fantasies Ian has about Nikki and one he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for the [](http://numb3rs-het.livejournal.com/profile)[**numb3rs_het**](http://numb3rs-het.livejournal.com/) [Summer Challenge 2011](http://numb3rs-het.livejournal.com/115473.html). And posted here to test the import function in AO3 to see how it works. I admit, this is one of my favorite things I've written, but it is likely because Ian/Nikki is one of my favorite pairings ever. Ugh, Numb3rs was canceled way too soon.
> 
> Challenge prompts (person/ place/ thing) are shown in bold as individual headings for each part of the fic.

**I. Veteran/ Bedroom/ Identification**

Nikki’s just home from Iraq... home for good this time and Ian watches her peel out of her uniform, the dress blues of a United States Marine. He may have been an Army man himself, but there was definitely something to be said for the US Marine Corps style - almost like they chose the cut and color of their dress uniform to purposely seduce the masses. An effective strategy, he thinks as her skirt slips to the floor.

He watches the material pool at her feet, loving the flinch in her legs as she considers picking it up – trained to do just that – but then watching as she straightens to let his eyes scan over her. He takes in every inch of her like he hasn’t seen her in a year, because he hasn’t, recommitting the flow of her body to his memory.

Some lines are different than he remembers when his eyes scan over toned calves and trim thighs, though nothing has taken away the supple smoothness he remembers there.

He takes pause when his gaze glides upward over revealing panties he’s sure aren’t military issue or military regulation. He doesn’t mind. She wouldn’t be Nikki if she didn’t find some way to shuck off accepted norms.

He smiles as he studies her secret contraband – the violet silk accenting her brown sugar skin while the material clings to the curve of her hip in a way that makes him hungry. Forcing his gaze higher, he skirts her abdomen and he’s sure she can see the memory of every time he traced those lines with his hands... his tongue... and how he plans to do it all over again now that she’s here.

His eyes are moving upward when he stops, his focus hitching on the dog tags he now sees dangling between perky breasts hidden from him in material that matches the contraband panties. He knows there’s something else he’s supposed to see here but all he sees are the tags – aged and worn from war. She starts to remove the identifying metal from around the curls somehow managed into a neat bun at the nape of her neck but he stands and reaches out to stop her.

“Leave them on,” he whispers, imagining now the dog tags branding him as he presses into her - imprinting her name, blood type, and social into his skin. Even if only for a few moments, he’ll be a marked man... labeled as hers. If only for tonight, that’s just what he is... and what he always wants to be.

**II. Bartender/ Washington, DC/ Tattoo**

She knows from the first 2 seconds whether he needs the high end whiskey or the rot gut and she pours it before he even sits down. The first shot goes down hard, burning him and making him think twice about being here until he looks up and sees her... arms braced on the bar giving him a knowing look and that half smile that makes him curious. She pours him another, his eyes not leaving hers as he scans the bar. Years as a trained sniper affords him the ability to know how many people are in a room and where the exits are with little more than a cursory glance. And tonight, the bar is empty except for a few regulars sparsely scattered from the end of the bar to the dark corners.

She shifts her focus to serve up the last call of the night while Ian feels every eye in the bar following her as she moves. The tattoo at the small of her back is meant to do just that, to catch the eye and hold the attention of onlookers while giving permission to scan the rest of the body of work underneath the ink. Ian could have been jealous in that moment, but he smirks around the rim of his glass instead. Anyone who knows Nikki knows a “tramp stamp” is not her style, least of all a rose caught in barbed wire. He’s sure the FBI tech who thought of that was pretty proud of himself, but Ian knows the truth. He knows about Nikki’s tattoo... the real one, tucked away at the curve of her hip so that only invited guests see the masterpiece.

She announces closing time and he makes no move to leave. Instead, he ignores the look the last of the regulars gives him as he tips his head goodnight and watches Nikki following the stragglers to the door. The lock slips into place with a resounding click and now it’s just the two of them. He turns on the stool to watch her sashaying toward him, knowing he shouldn’t be here. It was an unscheduled stop but he can see in her eyes she’s not sorry he came. She walks her petite body all the way into his stool, standing in the space he’s left between his legs. Her hands find his thighs as she steadies herself there and smiles. “Business or pleasure?” she asks and he knows her well enough to know she hopes it’s not business.

The fact that she’s undercover straight out of Quantico and he’s her handler for this ruse doesn’t seem to bother her even as her hands slide higher over his thighs. He reaches out to lightly grasp her hips, his left thumb instinctively tracing a pattern he knows is hidden beneath her jeans. He also knows he doesn’t have to answer her question because he’s smiling at her the way he often does. He watches the smile register across her face, enjoys the anticipation that fills her eyes as her own lips curve upward in understanding.

He recognizes something else from her then. And just like she knows when he needs the rot gut or the high end whiskey, he can see what she needs tonight. After a long day slumming it in this DC bar, there’ll be no rot gut whiskey for her. No, tonight she deserves the top shelf treatment. He’s thinking five star hotel, away from all the prying eyes and ears of the FBI and the drug cartel they’re working to take down. He’s thinking a cascading shower, 600 count Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around his body and hers, and room service eaten in bed or off of her depending on the menu. He knows just the place, but still doesn’t say a word. He simply waits while she studies him, trying to figure him out before deciding she prefers to be surprised... just like she always does when he’s smiling at her this way.

**III. Law Enforcement Officer/ Prison/ Lingerie**

He may have been teasing her about the conjugal visit but when she shows up in her LAPD uniform with a familiar glint in her eyes, he’s glad he mentioned it. The paperwork to free him after he got himself arrested and held a good friend hostage to solve a case is taking longer than he or Nikki expects. Apparently that’s ok though because he knows how impatient she is. She swore she’d never wait on a man, and waiting on him to get out of here is exactly what she’s not doing as she follows him down the hallway from the recreation area.

Since he’s one of the good guys, the guards don’t mind showing him a few extra privileges while he’s here – privileges like access to locked closets, rooms, hallways. These places are outside the line of sight of the cameras and usually only accessible by the guards. There’s a knowing smile on the guard ahead as he looks at Nikki and Ian can’t help wearing a smirk when she meets that gaze head on. She’s not ashamed, there’s no need to be. She doesn’t care if they know what she’s really doing here. They aren’t the men she came to see. She’s here to see him and all Ian can do is nod to the guard as he lets them pass, slipping Ian a key before the gate shuts behind the pair.

He leads her into a space that’s more open than most here before she’s locking the door behind them and getting right down to business. He leans back against the wall, a railing there from what, he has no idea and doesn’t really care as she starts her little show. There is something very provocative about this officer of the law sexily stripping out of her uniform. He’s expecting some slinky lingerie to be revealed as she undoes her belt first, sliding out of her well-pressed pants and kicking them aside before she’s lazily opening the buttons of her shirt. She leaves the shirt on but open, revealing only panties and her smooth brown sugar skin... his favorite sexy little something only she can wear.

She reaches for the clip that’s holding back her hair as she walks to him, releasing that huge bundle and making his breath catch when the curls tumble to her shoulders. It distracts him enough that he’s only mildly aware of the fact she has him out of his shirt and is moving closer while he stares in awe at her.

He’s not quite sure he’s ever seen that look in her eyes before but he is sure something good will come from it as she presses her body to his. He feels her warm skin against his a second before she’s kissing him as though she might stop breathing if she doesn’t... distracting him even more so he doesn’t see the cuffs slip from her hands and around his wrists. She has him cuffed to the rail and is sliding down over him and he has absolutely no control of the situation before he knows what’s happened. Judging by the smile in her eyes as her lips slide lower, that’s exactly the point.

**IV. Politician/ Party/ Fire**

The music from the party downstairs is muffled by the heavy closet door as he presses the newly elected Senator from California against the wall. "Are you sure you should be doing this Madam Senator?" he breathes hot against her neck knowing if she said no, neither would listen.

"A Senator caught having sex... in a closet... with her husband?" she gasps the last as his teeth nip her skin. "Imagine the scandal," she quips even as her legs wrap around him, the elegant party dress bunching around her waist. "Think the American people would fire me?" she breaths, the words searing his ear.

He groans his answer, sinking into her as she sinks down and bracing her against the wall while they catch a collective breath. "I think they'd elect you President," he manages despite the hitch in his voice when she shifts against him, powerless to do more than stand there and let her.

He feels more than sees the proud smile that crosses her lips then - both from his reaction to her and from the thought of being President. That smile turns him on more than a moment ago, knowing her ambition has always been one of her sexiest qualities. That same ambition is the reason she caught his eye all those years ago.

She shifts again and he gasps, his thoughts broken – asking himself why in God’s name is he waiting? He is savoring this when what he really wants is to fuck her hard against the wall and satisfy them both before they return to the 100+ guests downstairs.

"Think you could handle being the First Lady?" she teases. And he laughs at that before he finally dives into her, silencing her and wiping the smug smile off her face as she bears down on him. There is something to be said for having this effect on the woman who could and would be the leader of the free world, the most powerful woman on Earth. His every fantasy. His Nikki. His wife.

**V. Chef/ Kitchen/ Sweat**

It’s a little known fact that Ian Edgerton is a gourmet chef. He doesn’t mind. People can think he kills his venison and cooks it over a spit in the woods, it doesn’t bother him. It actually amuses him, considering he knows the only real way to cook such a gamey tough meat is low and slow, braising in a liquid concoction he’d make from whatever he has in the cabinets that day.

He’s watching the various pots and pans boil on the stove, the steam from each causing beads of sweat to gather on his forehead. He views each like a well timed shot from a sniper’s rifle... his rifle... making a game of ensuring they all finish in sequence so he has time to give them the proper attention they deserve.

He’s stirring the back pot of fruit for pureeing when Nikki rounds the corner and for that one second, everything gets put on hold. He watches her, smiling as she smiles back at him and glides into the kitchen. She boosts herself onto the counter, crossing one exposed leg over the other, continuing to watch him while he forces his attention back to the sauce on the front burner that needs stirring.

He’s bringing the spoon to her, gently blowing on the end to cool the thick mixture before he offers her a taste. He watches as she closes her eyes, savoring the flavor then licking her lips and making him sweat for a reason that has nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen. There’s approval when she opens her eyes and before he can get back to his symphony of bubbles and sizzles, she’s wrapping herself around him and pulling him into her. She offers him a taste of the sauce, only it’s from her tongue. He detects the robust flavor he was hoping for mingled with a hint of sweetness that blends well with the hunger he tastes from her. He recognizes that hunger and knows exactly what would best complement it. He has just enough sense about him to turn off the burners, knowing some things are more important than the execution of dishes currently filling the home with delicious aroma.

He eases her off the counter, her delicate yet fierce frame clinging to him as he moves them toward the bedroom. He can’t seem to take his eyes off hers, his smile widening as it hits him. This? His reality? This is by far his favorite fantasy, one he wouldn’t trade for all the power and riches and perfectly planned meals in the world.


End file.
